Today, the headline of Le Parisien reads:
“Real Estate Tycoon LuBérulle's′s Only Daughter, Charlotte Bérulle, Kidnapped at Birthday Party—Police Struggle to Find Leads, Heiress’ Fate Uncertain.”
In fact, for nearly half a month now, simir news has dominated the headlines of major Parisian media outlets. The kidnapping of a wealthfamily's′s child not only fuels news value but also becomes gossip for the public to discuss over meals. However, when dozens of children from top-tier wealthy families are kidnapped in succession, it ceases to be mere gossip and instead sparks fear across France and even worldwide.
Enormous pressure has cascaded down from the élysée Pace all the way to the Paris police department. From the police chief to ordinary officerseveryone's′s hair is turning gray with worry. These kidnapping cases are far from ordinary; each missinchild's′s parents are powerful figures capable of wielding influence in the global financial arena.
The City of Romance, the City of Fashion, the City of Luxury—these once-gmorous titles have become bitter jokes. Ieveryone's′s eyes, Paris is now a city of terror.
"Not a single lead.” Frustrated, André shoved aside the documents he′d reviewed countless times, stood up, and walked over to the window. Looking out at the air outside the police headquarters, he scoffed, "At this rate, those parents will probably hire an army to sweep through the Paris police departmentIsn't′t that right, Liang?"
André had been on the force for twenty years and had solved countless kidnapping cases, but this was only the second time he was utterly at a loss. Every one of those wealthy kids had disappeared without a trace, despite being surrounded by bodyguards and under watchful eyes. There were no signs left behind, and no ransom demands had been received—defying all logic and leaving the police with nowhere to start.
Across from him sat a young man with bck hair and an Eastern face, lounging sleepily in his office chair with a cup of instant coffee. His tie hung loosely over his slightly open, crisp white colr, and his bck suit jacket was tossed carelessly over the sofa, half-covered by a disarray of gossip magazines.
André turned and saw that the man behind him seemed entirely unfazed, as if hhadn't′t heard a word. Frustrated, the hot-tempered veteran police officer strode forward and spped the desk hard. “Are you even listening to me?”
Every item on the desk jumped from the force of his sp, cttering back down in disarray. Even the man′s coffee leapt out of his cup, spttering onto his shirt in surprise.
“Whoa!” The man jolted awake, jumping up as he grabbed a tissue and frantically dabbed at his shirt. “Mister, this shirt is expensive!”
André gred at him, words caught in his throat, only to sigh in resignation.
A week ago, the young son of a prominent Chinese tycoon had been kidnapped while vacationing in Paris. Due to the case's complexity, under the Sino-French Mutual Legal Assistance Agreement, China had dispatched an experienced police officer to Paris to assist with the investigation.
When André first id eyes on Mu Yeliang standing before him, hcouldn't′t believe that this strikingly handsome young man—looking more like a movie star—was supposed to be a “seasoned police officer.” His suspicions were quickly, and unfortunately, confirmed: apart from tagging along in routine tasks and occasionally serving as a Chinese transtor, Mu seemed to do nothing but eat, drink, and sleep. How someone like him had risen to this rank baffled André, whcouldn't′t understand why his superiors had assigned him such a useless assistant.
"Sir, many times, the case-solving rate is inversely proportional to the detective's temper," Mu Yeliang said, grinning as he pced a fresh cup of coffee in front of André. "If there's a case, there’s a fw. Just be patient!"
"I′d love to be patient, but this is a kidnapping! Every day the case drags on, the victim is in more danger. You know the pressure from above is enormous!" André could barely stanMu's′s carefree attitude and downed a rge gulp of coffee.It's′s only been a week, and wdon't′t have a single lead on the Chinese child. And now, LuBérulle's′s daughter is also kidnapped. Those kidnappers act like snatching people is as easy as buying bread at the supermarket! Damn it!" The more André thought about it, the more agitated he became. He spped his forehead in frustration—since Charlotte Bérulle's abductionhe'd′d barely slept three hours in three days.
Mu Yeliang looked at André sympathetically and patted his shoulder. "Sir, sometimes victory isn′t about who′s stronger or smarter, but about who can keep their cool."
"You sure talk a big game, but what else can you do?André's′s irritation only grew.
Ding ding ding! The phone rang sharply. André dug through a pile of documents to grab the receiver, picking it up with a snap. "Hello, it's me… What? The kidnappers sent letters to the parents of all the victims? Got it..We'llll be there right away."
He dropped the phone and, as if jolted by a shot of adrenaline, jumped to his feet. Turning to Mu Yeliang, he shouted, “What are you waiting forLet’s′s go!”
"Go where?” Mu Yeliang asked, confused.
"To the Mortier Barracks, DGSE!" André grabbed the back of his jacket colr, pulling him toward the door without moment's′s hesitation.
"DGSE? The French Intelligence Agency Headquarters?" Mu Yeliang protested, grabbing aAndré's′s arm. "Hey, hey! Slow down! haven't′t even grabbed my coat!"
